


The Art of Lying to Your Heart

by cookies_with_despair



Category: Princess Principal (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 19:52:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12489564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookies_with_despair/pseuds/cookies_with_despair
Summary: Ever wonder what's inside a spy's mind?A short story about Ange's past, and how she ended tangled up in a world of liars, and in the process, became a master herself.





	The Art of Lying to Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> It's been sooo long since I wrote something, I feel quite rusty. Anyway, I'm in love with this show and its characters, so I wrote this. Hope you like it! And I apologize if there's any mistakes and stuff.

The young girl screamed in terror as everything crumbled around her. As her first and only friend’s silhouette got farther and farther away, gravity mercilessly pulling her into an abysmal darkness.

 

Everything hurt. Not only her body as she kept falling and bumping into debris, but her heart as she was unjustly torn apart from her best friend.

 

Still screaming, she closed her eyes.

 

When she finally opened them again, she wished she hadn't.

 

Chaos. Terror. Panic. Blood. Fire.

 

She tried to stand up, to avoid the hysterical and erratic footsteps all around her. A jolt of pain in her arm and ribs abruptly halted her efforts. Tears came to her blue eyes, her heartbeat quickening in unison to her ragged breathing.

 

If she stayed there, she was going to die. That thought snapped her out of her trance as she started to drag herself away from all that chaos.

 

She needed to see Ange again somehow. She needed to go back and reclaim her real identity as Princess Charlotte. She needed to _stop_ running away once in her life. She couldn't leave Ange in her place as the Princess.

 

She needed to go back.

 

She _had_ to go back.

 

For Ange’s sake, and for the country's sake.

 

Same country that built a wall that would change Albion's fate forever.

 

* * *

 

 Charlotte's—no, _Ange’s_ stomach rumbled as she dragged her feet through the dirty and miserably foggy streets of London's lowest neighborhoods.

 

Her whole body ached, and her worn-out coat and scarf provided little protection against the harsh winter.

 

But she needed to survive.

 

How many days or months had passed since the revolution began? Since she lost everything that she held dear?  Ange could not tell, nor did she care.

 

She only needed to survive.

 

Navigating through the mazes of alleys took some getting used to, however, Ange was a quick learner—and her desperation hastened the process.

 

_Survive_.

 

She remembered her first days in the streets. Leaving aside all the chaos that ensued after the Commonwealth’s rebellion, she was left to fend off after herself. She cried a lot, she was beat up a lot, and became used to people referring her as “Ange.”

 

It felt wrong, _so_ wrong, and painfully squeezed her heart. Reminded her of the huge wall separating her from who should be now mistakenly referred as Princess Charlotte.

 

If she was still alive.

 

Ange quickly wiped her eyes at that thought. The only reason that kept her up on unsteady feet but _kept_ her up nonetheless, was the prospect of seeing her dear friend again.

 

She needed to survive.

 

She spotted an elegant woman in a blue suit a few streets away. She seemed so out of place. She did not look intimidated by all the thugs spread nearby. She was either courageous or foolish to venture in the worst streets of London.

 

Ange should've walked away. She still lacked skill in pickpocketing, and could easily find another victim to rob. However...the woman's finesse screamed money, and money meant food in her belly and the temporary quenching of her current Master’s ire.

 

Ange approached the woman.

 

She pretended to be escaping from thieves, colliding with the woman—who was unexpectedly strong— and caught her as she fell. She had reddish hair and deep, dark brown eyes, which regarded the girl with a mixture of confusion and worry.

 

“Are you okay?” The woman asked softly, holding her hand tenderly. Ange flinched at the touch, but played her part of a lost and scared girl.

 

_Was she always this natural at lying?_

 

After the woman's reassurance and some sobbing from Ange, the young girl left the mysterious woman behind.

 

Once she was out of sight from her, she took out from her pocket an expensive-looking pocketwatch. Ange paled for a moment before smiling; which caused her pain due to her cracked lips but she paid no heed. Her pulse quickened. She could sell it for enough money to have food for _days._

 

* * *

 

 Or so she thought.

 

“Impressive. You still lack some skill, but your acting almost fooled me.”

 

Ange froze on her steps. The voice belonged to the woman she had just stolen from. How did she manage to find her? Only people who lived here knew how to move around so quickly. Ange made sure to take the most complex alleys.

 

But the woman found her, regardless.

 

She hesitated for a second. As soon as that second ticked off, she dashed at full speed. At least, the speed that a starved and fatigued girl could manage.

 

Next thing she knew, she was face-first on the floor, a knee digging at her back and a knife pressed at her throat.

 

“Don't try anything funny or that will be the last thing you will do.” The woman’s stone cold tone was such a drastic change from her previous warm and compassionate voice.

 

Ange was terrified. She was still a coward. And she had been very stupid to steal from this woman. Said woman patted her pockets with her free hand in search of her pocketwatch, successfully retrieving it. She didn't let go of the knife nor relaxed her muscles.

 

Ange started sobbing. For _real_ this time. The crushing weight of the woman was unbearable to her weak bones and scarred mind. The glinting tip of the knife reminded her once more of the nightmarish hell that her world had become.

 

“I'm sorry…” She apologized between sobs, not expecting mercy and hoping for a swift death.

 

It never came. Instead, the woman stood up and offered her a hand and a handkerchief to dry her tears.

 

“Be at ease. I'm not going to kill you.” The woman said at Ange’s silent question. The girl reluctantly dried her tears and purposely avoided eye contact.

 

“Hey,” The woman kneeled at her height. “Are you hungry?”

 

Ange slowly nodded, her whole body stiff with tension. Was this a trap? For an agonizing moment she was about to kill her, and in the next she was being kind and caring.

 

“What’s your name?”

 

“....Ange.” She barely said. _Charlotte._

 

The woman smiled. “That's a nice name, Ange. My name is 7.”

 

At this, Ange finally made proper eye contact. “Huh?”

 

But the woman did not clarify. Her expression shifted. “I have a proposal, Ange. I can take you where there's always food, and where you don't need to steal in order to survive. You can choose to change your life.” The woman briefly paused. “However, it's still risky, and you'll be submitted to intense training everyday. But I see great potential in you. I don't offer this to anyone nor am I brutally honest about it. What do you say?”

 

Ange was speechless. “Are...Are you telling me you want me to become an assassin?”

 

7’s expression twisted into an unsettling smile, one that seemed too sharp and too fragile at the same time. “Not quite. I'm talking about being a spy for the Commonwealth.”

 

“A spy?” Ange repeated the word carefully, hushed, as if the mere word merited secrecy. Memories of her past life stirred; a word that she often heard among the royals.

 

7 seemed to read the uncertainty in Ange’s face. “Perhaps it’s too much to ask. I can take you to an orphanage instead.”

 

Vague memories tugged at the corners of the young girl’s mind. Rumours about spies, about their deeds. Nasty comments spat from the bottom of the clouded hearts of the poor people.

 

Something resembling hope pulled at her strings. If the bits of information she recalled were indeed trustworthy, then she would have a chance to get over that damned Wall.

 

Ange accepted becoming a spy. Anything was better than living in the streets anyway.

 

She did it to survive.

 

She did it to have a, however small chance, of seeing her friend again.

 

* * *

 

 She was taken far away into a place called The Farm.

 

More girls lived there, more girls with hollow eyes, malnourished bodies and bruises and scars. More girls who looked as empty as her. Older and even younger than her.

 

It almost seemed like an orphanage.

 

Once they were fed and given proper clothes, beds, and enough time to rest and settle down, the training began.

 

If she was in hell before, she was just plunged into the depths of it.

 

But it was her choice. She did it in order to survive.

 

* * *

 

 At the beginning, Ange vomited and cried herself to sleep.

 

Girls who were unfit to continue just disappeared without a trace. She was left with so many bruises and broken bones. She had to learn so much information, so many tricks, so many ways of manipulation.

 

She had to learn how to lie. She had to learn how to fight. She had to learn how to blend in. She had to learn how to endure torture.

 

She had to learn how to kill. She had to kill.

 

Eventually, she just _stopped_ feeling. She shut down her heart and focused on the task at hand, and became the best spy trainee in The Farm. She mastered the art of lying to her heart.

 

They called her a genius. A natural. Gifted. Heartless. Machine. Monster. Ange didn't care. She just did it in order to survive.

 

The only thing keeping her sane was the memory of her friend, and the brief moments of innocent bliss they shared.

 

* * *

 

 In all her years of training, Ange did not make a single friend. Not that The Farm had such a friendly atmosphere to begin with, and she did not have the drive or wish to befriend someone else.

 

7 visited her sometimes, but her visits decreased more and more as Ange completely shut herself away and barricaded her heart with unbreakable walls.

 

However, there was a persistent girl who's thick skull didn't seem to understand the concept of getting a hint. One who seemed to treat her as a friend, even if it was a one-sided notion. One who claimed Ange was not as emotionless as everybody thought.

 

“Here you are, Ange, I was looking for you.”

 

Ange clenched her teeth. She slowly turned her head and tried to convey her deadliest glare.

 

The girl didn't even flinch. In fact, she bursted out laughing, sitting next to her in one of the garden’s benches. “What's the deal with that face? It seems you have a stick up in your ass.”

 

Ange subtly sighed, a bubble of what seemed to be annoyance settling in her chest, altering her fragile balance of her constant emotionless state. “Go away, Dorothy.”

 

“Awww, don't be like that, Ange. I just came to chat.” Dorothy said, leaning back and staring off at the distant forest, her laid back voice suddenly serious. “You need to relax from time to time. You'll destroy yourself at this rate.”

 

“I'm an alien from The Black Lizard Planet. I cannot be destroyed.” Ange easily replied, returning her attention to her book and flipping a page.

 

Dorothy gave a dramatic sigh. “Again with that rubbish? You can be such a child sometimes, Ange.”

 

Ange did not reply. Silence enveloped them.

 

The Black Lizard Planet was just another of Ange’s lies. Lies came as easily to her as breathing. She didn't even have to think; they just rolled out of her tongue like poison out of a snake’s fang. Nobody knew what was inside her mind. Nobody knew how to deal with her and her empty eyes and her pile of lies.

 

She scared people off. Well, _except_ Dorothy. She seemed hell-bent on talking to her for some reason.

 

“Ange, why do you keep lying like that? Just because we're gonna be spies doesn't mean you have to be constantly lying.”

 

Ange closed her book, glancing at the older girl. “It's precisely because we're going to be spies that we _have_ to lie. If you think otherwise, you're lying to yourself.”

 

Dorothy grunted in annoyance. “Lies, lies, and lies. I'm getting so sick of them and of being surrounded by liars.”

 

“Then quit.” Ange deadpanned.

 

Dorothy glared angrily at her. She seemed to be restraining herself. That was one of Dorothy's faults; she could be too emotional and trusting. “I have my reasons for staying. Besides, it's not like I can just walk out of here. They would kill me in the spot.”

 

“Then what's the point of this conversation?”

 

Dorothy sighed once again, pinching her nose in defeat. “Nevermind. Trying to have a normal conversation with you is like trying to convince a fish to climb a tree.”

 

“That's an unrealistic scenario.” Ange pointed out.

 

“Which just proves my point.” Dorothy's lips quirked into a razor-sharp smile.

 

Ange’s heart stirred a bit at her jab. Was it annoyance? Or did she actually found that...funny?

 

“Anyway,” Dorothy changed the topic. “I've heard that you were selected for the C-ball training. Isn't that awesome?!”

 

“It’s not. It will just be an advantage in missions. That's all.”

 

Dorothy opened her eyes in shock. “Come on! You can't deny to feel even a little excited to have the possibility to fly and be badass! Not to mention that is such an honor to be selected. The Commonwealth is not even _supposed_ to have one.”

 

“I guess.” Ange said monotonously.

 

“You could at least pretend to agree with me.” Dorothy chuckled.

 

After some more idle conversation, mostly from Dorothy's side, Ange went back to her room and stared out her window. The sun was lazily hanging in the horizon, the stars splashed across the evening sky and the impending night unveiling.

 

All the other cots in her room were empty.

 

She was going to make it through.

 

She _had_ to.

 

 

* * *

 

As everybody kept saying, she was a natural.

 

She adjusted quickly to the C-ball. Became used to it until she did not suffer of any side effects. Learned the heating limit. Dominated the shift in gravity as easily as she lied.

 

Everyone praised her. Everyone had high hopes for her. Ange didn't care.

 

She did it for survival. She did it for... _her._

 

* * *

 

 In one of her last exams, she was teamed up with Dorothy and Eleanor once again.

 

Dorothy kept messing around to lighten up the mood in an attempt to sway the daggers that Ange and Eleanor threw at each other.

 

It didn't exactly work. They would probably never get along, but they could still carry on the mission perfectly when needed.

 

They split up.

 

Everything was going smoothly. Except that Dorothy never appeared at the meetup point afterwards.

 

Something went wrong. Eleanor started to panic. Ange’s emotions stayed the same. She assumed the worst.

 

But she ended up going after her. Even if Dorothy was not the perfect spy, she still was outstanding if she managed to be one of the last trainees standing.

 

Yes, the Intelligence needed her. That was all.

 

With help of her C-ball, Ange quickly found the place in which her teammate laid injured.

 

Dorothy's eyes widened when she saw her. “Ange…?”

 

“From the Black Lizard Planet, yes.” Ange replied calmly despite the fact the building was on fire and loud footsteps could be heard nearby.

 

“What are you doing?!” Dorothy yelled, clutching her arm. “Get away from here, Ange! They’ll get you!”

 

Ange just stared blankly at her. Without saying anything, she kneeled and grabbed her, using the C-ball just in time to escape as gunshots were heard.

 

When they were back in safety, Dorothy gasped, seemingly dizzy. She took a few breaths to regain her composure. “Heh...I knew you had a heart somewhere, Ange.”

 

“I just did it because you're a valuable asset to the Intelligence. Don't get the wrong idea.”

 

Dorothy couldn't help but smile. “You liar.”

 

* * *

 

 How unfair, Ange thought, that Princess could see so easily through her lies.

 

How unfair, Ange thought, that a wall separated them for so long and forced them to undertake opposite roles.

 

How unfair, Ange thought, that they both built walls around their hearts and became masters of deceiving.

 

How unfair, Ange thought, that they had to hide their relationship.

 

However, nothing was more unfair that the amount of time it took for both of them to see each other again.

 

To see her smile once again, even if it wasn't as bright as when they were children, even if it didn't seem to reach her eyes, even if it hid a deep layer of immeasurable hardships and tears, to Ange, it meant _everything._

 

All the training she endured, all those years in which everything seemed to be meaningless, all those times in which she just wanted to scream and end it all, it was all worth it.

 

She loved her smile.

 

She loved her.

 

* * *

 

 “Ange, is something wrong?” A soft voice brought the spy back to reality, her cup of tea lingering at her lips, the soft vapour blurring her glasses.

 

Four heads turned to her. Princess, Dorothy, Chise and Beatrice. Her teammates. Her _friends._

 

Ange put her cup down, smiling. “No, Princess. I was just thinking about the Black Lizard Planet.”

 

“You'll never get bored of that, Ange?” Dorothy teased, grabbing one of the many biscuits on the table.

 

“Will you ever get bored of drinking alcohol?” Ange retorted.

 

“What's that supposed to mean?!” Dorothy asked angrily. The other girls laughed, much to the older girl’s chagrin.

 

At these moments of peace it was easy to forget what they were. Easy to pretend nothing was wrong in the world and that they were just normal girls hanging out.

 

But it was a lie. Ange knew better, after all, she mastered the art of lying to her heart.

 

However, maybe, just maybe, these four girls could finally break down her walls. Maybe she could finally smile from her heart. Finally tear down her mask and stop lying. Finally be _herself_ and not just a spy.

 

Maybe she could finally stop running away.

 

Only time would tell.


End file.
